It's too late
by ShotgunOpera
Summary: A sequel to my one-shot, "He never knew it, but we watched sunsets together." You don't have to read that one first to get this one, but it helps...This is Darry's POV when Pony finally comes home on that fateful night


Disclaimer: all characters belong to the wonderful Ms. Hinton, I'm just playing in her toybox. :) The lyrics are from the song "Apologize" by OneRepublic; I do not own them, either. Note that the dialogue I used is from the movie version; I thought it was a little more intense than the book version.

* * *

_You tell me that you're sorry_

_Didn't think I'd turn around, and say..._

_It's too late to apologize, it's too late_

_I said it's too late to apologize, it's too late_

XXX

Gripping the newspaper tightly in my hands, I tried to concentrate the article that I had been trying to read for the past half hour. Ponyboy wasn't home yet and it was nearly 2am; I was worried sick. Had he been jumped again? My stomach turned at the thought of Pony lying in the streets somewhere, bloodied and bruised, moaning and calling out for me and Soda. I had tried to get a hold of Two-Bit, but his mother said he was still out. I wondered briefly if Pony was with him, but dismissed it; even a drunk Two-Bit knew Pony's strict curfew.

I sighed as I once again started the article. Usually I got to about the middle of it and then realized I had no clue what I was reading and had to start over again. This was beginning to be an exercise in futility. Putting the newspaper down, I looked over at Sodapop. He was peacefully asleep on the couch; if only I had that ease of mind to fall asleep with Pony still unaccounted for.

Reaching for the phone, I dialed a number that I actually hoped would not yield results: Tim Shepard's home.

It rang five times before a rowdy "Hello!" screeched on the line. Obviously not Tim; either Curly or another one of Shepard's gang.

"Hey, this is Darry Curtis, is Tim there?"

"Hold on!"

I heard shouting in the background, then Tim's gravely voice as he took the phone. "Hello?"

"Tim, it's Darry."

"Yeah." I could hear him light a cigarette from the click of the lighter and the way his breath caught as he breathed in the smoke.

"You haven't seen Ponyboy tonight, have you?"

"I saw him at the Nightly Double with Johnny Cade and Two-Bit. I asked him if he knew where Ol' Dally was, he said he didn't know." He paused before he added, "That bastard slashed my tires again."

"Have you seen him since?"

"No, I haven't."

I sighed, either with relief or worry, I wasn't exactly sure at the moment. "Ok, thanks," I said as I hung up the phone.

I was about to pick up my newspaper again when the front door opened and the devil himself stepped in.

Throwing the newspaper down, I demanded, "Where have you been? Do you know what time it is? It's 2 o'clock in the morning, kiddo." Pony's face was smudged with dirt, and there was still an errant leaf in his hair.

"Yeah, Pony, where ya been?" Soda said, stirring on the couch.

"I fell asleep in the lot."

My mind reeled. "What?" The panic I had been feeling earlier was converting to rage, hearing his excuse; all this time spent worrying about him, and he was asleep in the lot! He ought to have more sense than that!

"I was talking to Johnny and I fell asleep in the lot," Ponyboy repeated, walking into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. "I didn't mean to."

I slapped the door as it was swinging closed; I wasn't done talking to him, yet. "Hey, and I can't even call the cops, 'cause you two would be thrown in a boy's home so fast it would make your head spin!" To say that I was furious would be an understatement; I was seething. Had what happened yesterday not stuck in his head? Why couldn't this kid learn how to think?

Soda trailed behind us. "Let's go to bed," he quietly suggested, trying to diffuse the situation, as usual.

"I said I didn't mean to," Pony shot at me as he walked past me.

I bristled at his overused statement. "'I didn't mean to', 'I forgot', that's all I ever hear from you!" I shouted.

"Darry …" Soda started, but I was in no mood for a rebuttal from my younger brother. I was angry, and I wasn't going to back down so easily this time; I had backed down too easily last time.

I whirled around and stood all of two inches from his chest. "You shut up! I'm tired of you stickin' up for him!"

"Hey, don't yell at him!" Ponyboy yelled, and that was it. It took a lot for me to reach my breaking point, but it was reached, and before I knew it, my hand flew out and struck Pony on the cheek.

I was stunned; what had I done? I had never hit my brothers before, not even in playing! I looked at my hand as it was starting to redden and smart from the blow. I looked back up and saw tears forming in Pony's eyes, and it cut me deep. "Ponyboy …" I said, but it was too late; he was already turning around and running back out the door. " … I didn't mean to!" I yelled after him, but he was long gone.

"Darry, what did you do?" Soda asked from behind me. I turned around to regard my other brother, tears stinging my eyes, unable to say a word. Soda's eyes were wide in shock and disbelief, and he just stood here, rooted to the floor. I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times before I gave up on the speaking and simply sat down hard in my chair, unsuccessfully trying to suppress the sobs being torn from my throat.

I barely registered Soda's embrace as I continued to cry. What was that promise I had made myself earlier tonight, that I would try to listen to Pony more and try to salvage our relationship? I had failed miserably. In fact, I could not even think of a way that I could have messed up even more. _It's too late,_ I thought to myself, repeating it like a mantra in my head. _It's too late, it's too late, it's too late …_

My brother was gone, my little brother that I cared so much about. I could only hope and pray that he would come back. Soda assured me that he would, that he just needed to cool down, but I knew that even when he did come back, it would be too late.

Too late. I had stepped over the line. I had singlehandedly ruined our relationship, and there was no getting it back; there was no second chances. Why couldn't _I_ have used my head? I had ignored the very advice I had been drilling into Ponyboy. Why did I do that? Why?

After a few minutes, I felt Soda's hand rubbing my back as he half-whispered, "You know, he might not have gone far. Let's go look for him."

I nodded, wiping away the remaining tears and steeling my face back into the stony look I had perfected since our parent's death. I had to be strong for my brothers; I had to be strong for myself.

As Soda and I walked out the front door, into the night, I still had a sinking feeling that it was too late.


End file.
